The Rebellion of Mordor
by bunyip123
Summary: Frodo and Sam continue their quest to Mordor, and Merry and Pippin find a vital weapon of the enemy
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Rebellion Of Mordor: Chapter 1

AUTHOR: bunyip123

RATING: For people 12 and up

SUMMARY: Frodo and Sam continue their quest to Mordor, and Merry and Pippin find a vital weapon of the enemy.

"I am glad you are with me. Here, at the end of all things, Sam."

-Frodo Baggins, Return of the King

I

Frodo halted as he and Sam reached a drop in the mountainside, stretching down so far one could not tell where its fall would end. The blackness consumed its depths, casting no light upon it.

"It's a fall in the mountainside. We'll have to go back." Frodo stated. He turned around with Sam and walked back down the trail they came. It was beginning to become dark. They tried to be hasty, for darkness would bring sleep, sleep would bring delay, and delay would bring less time to complete their mission.

As they walked on, they became less aware of the fact that they would have to go all the way back up, just in a different direction. They may well have found the other trail broken as well, and then what? They would have to leave the mountain, wasting a whole day of their journey for naught.

After an hour of their trek back down half of the mountain, they came to the fork in the trail, on which they had chosen the wrong path.

"We'd best rest here, Master. For a bit, only." Sam said, sitting down against the mountain. Frodo nodded and sat with Sam. It was cold. The wind blew. And every blow sounded as a distant wail. A weeping.

"What have we for food and water?" Frodo then asked. Sam removed his bag and rummaged through its pouches.

"Seems we needn't worry of our water. We've still got it aplenty, if we drink it sparingly." Sam said, showing Frodo three small pouches full of water.

"What of our food?" Frodo asked. Sam reached around into another small opening in his bag and pulled out many pieces of odd bread.

"We've got naught but lambus bread." Sam answered, raising a piece of the bread in his hand and tossing it to Frodo. Frodo caught it. He bit into it. It was both hard and soft, and tasted of tea and honey. It was good, for sure, and would hold them over nicely, but it wasn't Shire food. Elven, it was.

Frodo sighed to himself.

"Come. We've already out-done our time here." He said, helping Sam to his feet.

"What of dinner and supper, Mr. Frodo? It seems to be its time." said Sam. Frodo turned to Sam and smiled slightly.

"We've no time Sam. But worry not. Tomorrow, we shall have more lambus bread for dinner and supper." He assured his friend. Sam felt his stomach rumble. He was hungry, but indeed, their mission was far more important.

Frodo and Sam walked their way slowly up the opposite trail, winding up the mountain. It seemed to go on forever, even reaching up through the clouds.

"Sam! I…can't breathe!" Frodo wheezed. They were almost to the top, and the air was becoming thinner.

"Yes you can, Master! Just take it in slowly." Sam said, finding himself sounding equally raspy. Frodo took in a slow breath, and let it out slowly.

"Were…going to get…to the top…in just a few steps." Frodo said, looking hopefully at the peak only a few yards upwards.

Slowly, they finally reached the peak. The sky was still not beautiful. Not, even, would it ever be again, so long as Mordor lived. Frodo, mustering what strength he could gather, climbed to the very top. He stood and looked toward the horizon.

"Which way is Mordor?" Sam asked. Frodo peered into the North. Nothing. He peered to the South. Nothing. He peered to the West. Still nothing. But, the East, held dark, black and blood red clouds in the distance, seeming as though they were ablaze with the brightest of flame. Frodo suddenly saw no more of the mountain. No more of the sky, and heard no more of Sam's voice calling to him. What he saw was fire. Fire around him in a circle. It circled Frodo, and then wreathed around him. As it did so, a great eye, itself wreathed in the flames, appeared before Frodo. Its great red pupil seemed to stare at the chain around Frodo's neck. Frodo's hand, involuntarily and by itself, without command, reached for the Ring. A demonic and loud voice filled Frodo's pointed hobbit ears.

"Give it to me." It said, as the eye itself seemed to beckon Frodo's hand toward it. Frodo tried with all his might to recoil his hand, but its reach and grasp on the Ring remained firm, as it drew toward the fire…

"No!" Frodo yelled, and his hand leapt back, letting its grasp of the Ring fail. The clinking sound of the Ring against its chain was normally sound and quiet. But now, it roared inside Frodo like a screaming animal. The eye expanded suddenly, engulfing the whole of Frodo's vision.

"Give it to me!" the voice screeched. Frodo knelt and blocked his ears.

"No! Never!" he yelled, refraining his arms with all his strength.

"Frodo." The voice said. And yet, the voice had another one to it. A more familiar voice. "Frodo!" they screamed. "Frodo, Frodo!"

Frodo had had enough. The eye had brought him to his breaking point. Swiftly as his hobbit arms could be, Frodo unsheathed Sting and tried to stab the eye. Instead, his vision of fire and shadow faded. He regained his real eyesight. He found himself surrounded by blurry rocks, and a blurry landscape. He had a rushing sound in his ears, and on his back was a great force of air.

Frodo had fallen. He heard the familiar voice yell, "Frodo! No!" it was now as clear as day. Samwise. It was Sam's voice.

But, Sam was too late. Frodo was falling off the mountain. He was plummeting downwards, toward the ground.

Frodo steered himself toward the mountainside, and dug Sting into it. Blue and gray sparks flew from the impact. But, it would not hold. Sting drew back swiftly, just missing Frodo's cheek. He wasn't going to stop falling. But he had to try. For the mission. Once again, Frodo jabbed Sting into the mountainside, creating another whirlwind of sparks. However, the plan worked. Sting was stuck into the stone. But, below him was a trail that was about 12 yards downwards.

"I can't give up now." Frodo thought. He took of his broach and the elven cloak fell to the ground, creating a sort of a cushion to break his fall. Then, with all his might, he pulled Sting out of the mountain. He let himself fall, and luckily the cloak worked.

It was getting dark now. The sun was setting in the West, behind the mountains. He could see the edge of the land beyond, the very place Bilbo had spoken of.

Frodo sat himself on the trail. He did not know of what to do next. He supposed he'd best get rest. Sam would have surely found him by morning. He closed his eyes and remembered the green fields of the Shire. Suddenly, his mind steered to the memory of the gaze. The gaze of that fiery eye. What could such a vision convey? What could it mean? And what business had the eye meant? How had it known Frodo's name? And why? Why did it want the Ring?

It was as if he could hear it again. And see it. Every single word from its demon voice, mocking him, wearing him down, degrading his soul…

"Torment me no more!" Frodo screamed, and waved Sting through the air, as if to slice the eye. But the eye was not there. Only it's memory, and its sight. For the eye, at that very moment, was watching Frodo, reading him, and gazing upon the Ring. For the eye needed only this Ring to break all bonds of will, of rebellion, and the world of men would fall. And the Fellowship would be a futile and failed attempt. Nothing but a nail in the coffin of good. Nothing but dust, crumpled from the memory.

Frodo sighed and shook his head. It was no worth trying to remember it. Or even trying to fight it. It was not there, and it was gone. For the moment, Frodo could be at peace, at last. But, he could never truly rest until it was done. Until his burden was taken away.

Frodo wrapped himself in his Elven cloak like a blanket. It was his only source of comfort. Sam wasn't there. The Fellowship wasn't there. Gandalf wasn't there…

A tear rolled down the hobbit's cheek. Gandalf. The bravest man he'd ever know. He gave his life for good, he faced his worst fear, and was willing to travel to the very fires of Mordor.

"I'll get to Mordor, Gandalf. I promise." Frodo whispered. And with that, he closed his eyes, and knew only sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: The Rebellion Of Mordor: Chapter 1

AUTHOR: bunyip123

RATING: For people 12 and up

SUMMARY: Frodo and Sam continue their quest to Mordor, and Merry and Pippin find a vital weapon of the enemy.

"I am glad you are with me. Here, at the end of all things, Sam."

-Frodo Baggins, Return of the King

II

Pippin felt a fiery, burning sensation on his tongue. The feel of it was similar to that of acid; yet no physical damage was being done to him. He opened his eyes. As he spat out the vile liquid, he saw that he was propped against a mountainside, with Merry coughing next to him.

"Merry!" Pippin whispered. Merry opened his eyes and noted Pippin's presence.

"Yes?" he asked. He did not seem to be ill, showing no signs of weakness; or strain. Yet his voice seemed a bit forced. Pippin figured he had also been given the brew, whatever it was intended for. Pippin looked from side to side. He saw their Uruk-Hai captors, all talking and snapping and bellowing amongst themselves. 'No, they're of no use to us!' and, 'We've got our commands, scum!' Pippin suddenly realized that, along with Merry, his hands and legs were bound.

"Where…where are we?" Pippin asked. Merry looked around him.

"Well, a mountain, obviously." Merry said, having a sarcastic sound in his response. Pippin smirked and sat himself up straight.

"Why did they come here?" he asked. Merry thought for a moment, remembering what he could before he slept.

"They said they were to meet someone here." He said, remembering the harsh voices. An Uruk-Hai standing next to him leaned in and snarled,

"You're not here to talk!" as he dug a scimitar into the ground in front of Merry. Merry gulped nervously and tried to make himself as far from the blade as possible. Pippin shifted and tried as hard as he could do break the ropes around his wrists and ankles. He then looked to the scimitar.

"Merry! Grab the sword!" he said. Merry nodded and reached, but his binds were making it difficult to grasp anything, let alone pull a sword out of a rock. He was able to get his fingers around the hilt. He pulled, and pulled…

Suddenly, a screeching sound filled the hobbit's ears. It sounded large, almost as large as the Balrog of Morgoth. Pippin and Merry screamed, trying to break free, as to block their ears. But, to no avail. They suffered the sound. A great whooshing sound accompanied the screeching, and a loud thump ended both. Merry looked front of him. His eyes widened as he shook Pippin's shoulder.

What was before them was an enormous monster. It had gray, rough skin, giant leathery wings, two hind legs; yet no front legs, a long neck and tail, and a serpent-like head filled with sharp fangs. Its yellow eyes seemed to darken with every breath. On its back, was a black-cloaked figure wearing a demonic helmet. The figure did not seem to be breathing, but how could it be so? Could something dead still live? Merry then came to a realization.

"Pippin, dear lord, it's a black rider!" Merry screamed, obvious shock in his tone. "A wraith!" Pippin looked at the figure in pure fear and awe. It climbed down from its monster and came to the Uruk-Hai. Compared to the height of the Uruk-Hai, the wraith looked like as if it must have been, at the very most, eight feet tall. In his hand, there was a great black sword, its blade wreathed in transparent flame. It's raspy, empty voice then spoke.

"Why be you here, at this place? Isengard is your destination." It stated, showing no signs of emotion. It stood at its place, no more still than a statue. The sheath for its sword was of the blackest metal, for no glint; nor shine could have come from its surface.

One of the Uruk-Hai, the largest of them, came to the wraith and bowed before it.

"Forgive us, sire. We knew not where Isengrad lay, so we must get to the summit." It explained in its gruff voice. Again, other than its voice, the wraith showed no response.

"It lies to the South. Now go." The wraith snapped. It sheathed its sword and climbed back onto the fell beast. Before another sound was made, small footsteps were heard, coming down the trail.

"Oui! What're doin' with Merry and Pippin?!" It was Sam. In his hand was his dagger at the ready.

"Sam! Run!" Pippin warned. But, before anything else was permitted to happen, the monster screeched again. The hobbits screamed. Sam knelt to the ground and covered his ears. As he did so, the blade dropped from his grasp. He was vulnerable.

"What's he doin' here?!" An Uruk-Hai snapped. "Give me the rope!" At this command, one of the smaller Uruk-Hai fetched rope from the trail and threw it to the commander. The Uruk-Hai commander grabbed the rope, and ran to Sam. He bound his hands and feet. "Quit your squealin'!"

Sam could not break free. He was too tightly bound. As the screeching stopped, the Uruk-Hai untied the hobbit's feet, but not their hands.

"Fetch the medicine!" one of the Uruk-Hai yelled. One tossed a small damp pouch to him. He then poured dark red liquid. After having it poured into his throat, Pippin realized that this was the acid-like liquid he had tasted before.

"Sam! Where's Frodo?!" Merry yelled to Sam, over the bustling rough voices of the Uruk-Hai.

"I saw him break his fall!" Sam yelled back. Pippin flinched.

"He fell? Where?" Sam sighed.

"Off the peak, but he's still on the mountain, and alive!" Sam answered. Then, he remembered something. Frodo had nothing to eat; or drink.

"I pray for his safety." Merry said. One of the Uruk-Hai came to the three hobbits. He had a whip ion his hand, covered in blood.

"Start running, scum!" he barked, black spit and blood coming from his mouth. The hobbits got to their feet. They had no other choice. They would have to run to Isengard.

"Sam, are you sure Frodo's alive?" Merry whispered. Pippin looked to Sam nervously. Sam felt a tear roll down his cheek.

"God help him." He said, and with that, they ran.


End file.
